Has the character?
by rmartin
Summary: A series of stories I am trying out, crossing my favourite shows with my profession, Theatre. What happens when Eames uses a characterization exercise to flesh out what she knows about Goren? R&R please, first CI fic. Rated for language. CH 7 LAST CHAPTER
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my first CI fic. I am starting a new set of stories linking my favourite shows to my profession, Theatre. I figure that with all the moving around the people in my favourite shows do, they are bound to encounter Theatre one or twice. PLEASE R&R so I can know if this is working or not. Look for other stories in this series to include House MD, NCIS and CSI.  
_Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, or these Dramatic Theories... just the situation in which they collide._**

"Eye contact is another good way to connect with someone. It can be done in positive or negative ways to achieve positive results either way. I might make eye contact repeatedly for short times with a witness to let them know that what they are telling me is important. I might make long-term, unbroken eye contact with a suspect to unnerve them, get them to start saying things they don't necessarily want to. The truth." Detective Eames shifted in the chair that was placed in the corner of the classroom.

She and her partner were giving a lecture on Psychology at a high school close to Police Plaza. It was supposed to be a joint effort anyway, but Goren was obviously more knowledgeable and therefore doing more of the talking. Eames resisted the urge to ball up paper and throw it at him, but she did look for anything handy in case he never let her speak. She wasn't thrilled with it, but she didn't want to just sit there.

He was engaging the class now, by appearing to read a girl's mind. The poor girl had no clue how many tells she was throwing out. When Goren pointed them all out to her, there was likely going to be a surge of "now try me"s from the sixteen and seventeen year olds. Everyone would try to beat him and everyone would fail. Eames searched a little less subtly for something to read, or throw. Goren was always the fun one; she was always the pragmatist.

She picked up a paper on a shelf next to her. It was a list of questions like a psych evaluation they might receive on a suspect. About thirty questions, she noticed that some of them were very specific. Then she saw the questions always referred to "character" instead of "patient" or "subject". This peaked her interest and she walked the piece of paper over to the teacher.

"What's this?" she asked in a lowered voice, as Goren had started to read the entire class's mind. "I teach last period Drama as well as Psychology. Couple of cutbacks and they got me to teach Intro Psych cause I minored in it. We use those to create our characters from context in a script. It's extremely useful and kind of fun. Where the script provides no clues... you get to make things up. Great tool." The two women stood watching as Goren wrapped up his demonstration. Just as he was finishing up, the bell rang and all the students started filing from the room. Eames hadn't gotten to say a word.

"Damnit Goren." She thought and a slightly devilish look came across her face. "Can I have a copy of this?" she asked the teacher. "Go right ahead and take that one. You two have a nice day."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This is my first CI fic. I am starting a new set of stories linking my favourite shows to my profession, Theatre. I figure that with all the moving around the people in my favourite shows do, they are bound to encounter Theatre one or twice. _PLEASE R&R_ so I can know if this is working or not. Look for other stories in this series to include House MD, NCIS and CSI.  
****_Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, or these Dramatic Theories... just the situation in which they collide.  
_  
**_I hope you can understand how I am doing this but if not... Bold- questions. Italics- Things Eames is thinking but not writing down about the questions. Underlined- The words she writes on the page.

* * *

_

Back at their desk in the Major Case squad room, Eames watched her partner actually take notes in his portfolio about the lecture. This annoyed her in a playful way, that he could take something that was such a time-waster, so seriously. He was scribbling, no doubt having learned something about adolescent psychology in the process of wasting her afternoon.

She decided to speak up and ask him exactly what he could have learned. She was going to ask it just like that... but she changed her mind. Instead, she simply asked, "Whatcha writing?"

Goren looked up and responded, "About the lecture, aren't you going to write anything down?" He tended not to understand why she was more relaxed about note taking. She just looked at him and said, "Write about what, hm? How I sat in a corner for an hour and listened to you perform softball interrogations on teenagers while I was tempted to bean you with a spitball? You didn't let me get in one word!" She smiled with her eyes and let her mouth look stern and disapproving. He made a funny face back at her and said "I-" and she cut him off before he could get actually worked up. "Its ok! I'll write up some expense reports or something, in case they ever decide to start refunding us everything."

They locked eyes for a second and she reassured him she was not angry so he would go back to his work. Eames shook her head a little and then realized what she was going to write. She was going to perform that Character Inventory on her partner. It should definitely be interesting. She pulled the folded paper out of her coat pocket and smoothed it out next to a yellow legal pad. "Start from the top, then skip around some." she thought as she looked for a pencil or pen.

**"What is the character's full name?"**

_Easy. Maybe._ Robert Goren. _No... Full name. Um_, DETECTIVE Robert Goren? Eames didn't think she forgot details like that, so she was sure she didn't know. _OH! There is an 'O'. His middle name starts with 'O'_Detective Robert O. Goren, Bobby. She wrote this down carefully in the black felt-tipped pen she'd found. It looked very official. Then she remembered what the teacher had said, "Where the script provides no clues... you get to make things up." So in smaller letters, next to the name she wrote (Oliver? Owen? Oscar?) None of them sounded good, but it was fun to think about.

**"What is the character's age?"**

_Easy again, this time for real_. Forty six. She wrote this down confidently and hoped the next question was not about his birthday. She would have to think, since it never seemed to actually happen on a weekday.

"**What is the character's appearance?"**

6'4", heavy-build, _not fat_, fit _but not overly muscular either_, dark hair _formerly_ brown but now greying, _perpetually_ five o'clock-shadowed. _Dresses in _business suits_ and prefers his _trench coat_ to other forms of warmth. Also wears a _wool cap_ in winter_. _Stands upright with _good posture_ from stint in the _military. _Not altogether unattractive_. Eames looked over at him. He was still scribbling in his book. He could take notes for a long time over very little.

"Let's find a good one, something more interesting." She scanned the page. "Ooh..."

**"Does the character have any vices?"**

Does he? Former smoker, does drink. _But I've never seen him drunk_. Would never gamble due to family history and wouldn't abuse illegal or prescription drugs. _Sex addict? Nah, laughable. Ok not laughable, HIGHLY improbable_. No discernible vices.

The making things up part was fun. She looked through a few more questions she didn't readily know the answer to. **"Has the character witnessed a murder?"** "Not gonna go there." **"What is the characters relational status?"** "Hm, I wonder..."

"Eames, I'm done. Want to go get a bite to eat? There's still nothing going on." Goren was taking his coat off of the back of his chair and after she snapped back to immediate attention she stood to do the same. "Sure." They started to walk out to the elevators but she stopped and returned to her desk quickly. "Hang on a sec." She grabbed the paper from the desk and refolded it for her pocket. "Ok, now where? Pizza?" She was going to use this lunch to get some more answers. This could prove to be more fun than she was planning.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This is my first CI fic. I am starting a new set of stories linking my favourite shows to my profession, Theatre. I figure that with all the moving around the people in my favourite shows do, they are bound to encounter Theatre one or twice. _PLEASE R&R_ so I can know if this is working or not. Look for other stories in this series to include House MD, NCIS and CSI.  
****_Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, or these Dramatic Theories... just the situation in which they collide.  
_  
**_I hope you can understand how I am doing this but if not... Bold- questions. Italics- Things Eames is thinking but not writing down about the questions. Underlined- The words she (mentally in this chapter since she can't risk getting caught) writes on the page.

* * *

_  
"So," said Goren when they sat down with a large pizza between them on the table, "what was that paper you picked back up off your desk as we left?" "Um, nothing much." Eames answered him weakly and silently cursed herself for getting caught. She quickly filled her mouth with pizza before he could press her further. She hoped her action would prompt him to do the same. It worked for a moment; as he lifted the piece to his mouth, but she made the mistake of swallowing before his mouth was actually full and he stopped before he bit down to say "You took it from the teacher at the school. Then pretended to use it as part of the expense report."

She stuffed another bite of pizza into her mouth and chewed, avoiding him clearly. Then she swallowed again and started in "DA-AMMM... you rue-int my fuuuun." She pouted and hoped her 'Alex from the block' routine would distract him for a second. It worked; Goren smiled, laughing a little before taking another bite of pizza.

"**What makes the character laugh?"** _Bad impressions__ of suspects and __witty literary comments. __Convicts who become lawyers__. My __dry observations__ and __one-liners__. Me. __Me?_ She could only hope.

"What was it? The paper?" "You're not gonna let this go are ya Bobby?" He was wiping his mouth so she couldn't see it, but his eyes said "Not on your life." "Its just a Psych paper. Some dumb questions. I was amusing myself cause you were so busy with 'whateveritisyoudo' when we get done with something menial like that." "You only call it menial when you don't get to speak." "Well that should tell you something." "Maybe." They were getting up to speed on lunch and the pizza wouldn't last much longer.

Another couple of bites later, Goren looked up to the speakers in the ceiling that were spouting music to try and give the pizza parlor a little more of an Italian feel. A soprano and a tenor were weepily operatic about some subject or another. "I like this one."

**"What genre of music does the character enjoy?"** _Opera._ "Hey, Mr. Opera Man, do you listen to anything else? Or just practice being manly and stolid while people sing about death and dying?" "I like jazz. When I smoked I used to listen to a lot more Neil Young than I do now." _Aha, fancy stuff. __Intelligent music__. Introspective and cerebral. __Jazz, Americana__. I wonder if I offered to listen to "Living with War" if he'd listen to "Arrival" with me. Can't hurt to try..._

"So, if I suggested a dual listening party of Living with War and Arrival," she expected him to know she meant the ABBA album, "you'd say sure, right? Your guilty pleasure and mine?" The pizza was gone. They were leaving a couple of bills on the table and getting up to leave. Goren brushed up against Eames' chair and helped her with her coat. She could see him going through her pockets as surreptitiously as possible but he wasn't going to find the paper. She was amazed he didn't notice her slip it into her back pants pocket. She was getting a little better.

"Uh sure, but can we do it late at night and listen to my album first? You know, so I don't miss mine if I happen to fall asleep after the first one." He smiled and she added another item to the mental list of things that made him laugh. _Himself, for sure._


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This is my first CI fic. I am starting a new set of stories linking my favourite shows to my profession, Theatre. I figure that with all the moving around the people in my favourite shows do, they are bound to encounter Theatre one or twice. _PLEASE R&R_ so I can know if this is working or not. Look for other stories in this series to include House MD, NCIS and CSI. THANKS FOR ALL MY REVIEWS SO FAR!!!  
****_Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, or these Dramatic Theories, or the music... just the situation in which they collide.  
_  
**_I hope you can understand how I am doing this but if not... Bold- questions. Italics- Things Eames is thinking but not writing down about the questions. Underlined- The words she writes on the page.

* * *

_

"So where're we going to listen to our albums, bub?" She wasn't going to let him let her down on this one. "Yours, or mine?" Her voice held hope on the "yours" and disdain on the "mine" she was hoping her acting didn't go unnoticed, but she hoped he didn't notice the motivation for it. She wanted into the apartment. She wanted in there badly. He took the bait. "Well yours sounds sooo much less exciting than mine, we'll go there. Hope you don't mind the walkup, the elevator is down supposedly only until tomorrow." They hit the 1 Police Plaza elevators to talk amicably on the way down.

"I'll have to run home and get my album, do you have a record player? I have a CD too..." That was a little embarassing for her to admit owning two copies of a disco album, but she wanted to protect the vinyl. She even knew it was a joke to ask him if he had a player, but she didn't like to be presumptuous. "Opera sounds best in the format it was originally recorded in, I think. So yes, I do. I don't have a copy of the Neil Young album though, so I will have to pick one up, not a big deal. I'll grab some dinner too, if that's alright."

"Sure. I'll call on my way." They were about to part ways in front of the building. Goren walked away just a tiny bit, and then turned and said "Don't leave the mysterious psych paper at home, I know its in your back pocket. I heard it crinkle when you sat back down after lunch." "I hate you Goren." "See you in a little while, Eames."

* * *

**"What is the character's alone lifestyle?"** _Dunno, trying to answer that._ She wondered if communicating telepathically with a little piece of paper was insane or not. Probably, but she wouldn't worry about it right now. She was standing outside of Goren's door, not having knocked yet she was just taking a moment to compose herself and plan her attack. She had her album, a bottle of red wine and her gym bag. 

She'd run by the gym and hit a couple of minutes on a cardio machine. Not enough to really work up a sweat, but enough to make the gym bag believeable. Inside she had the paper, and her legal pad. In case her cover wasn't blown, she wanted to be able to take notes on her way home. She was really having fun with this; it was fun to run an as-yet-undetected game on Bobby. She wasn't sure how long it was going to last, or what she would do when she was done with the evaluation. Right now it was about the game, and she was having fun.

* * *

The door was opened under her firm knocking, she wondered how close to the other side of the door he had been standing. "Oh, hey, I thought I heard you out there." "Um, yeah, I had to tie my shoe after the walkup. Didn't want to walk right in and ignore you in favor of my right foot." She kicked up her right running shoe in indication. "Why're you- where's, umm, you went to the gym first?" "Yep, but don't worry, I have the album and a bottle of red wine right here in my bag. What smells awesome? You order in Italian?" She walked into the apartment she had seen the inside of a few times before. She'd never exactly been in here on friendly and casual terms but she knew if she acted awkward and out of place Goren would go WAY out of his way to appease her. So no point in that. 

"I didn't order, I had some noodles and a couple of tomatoes left over from the other day, I just put them together with a jar of sauce... I hope spaghetti is alright." She wondered why he always tried to make the nicest, most personal gestures sound so mundane and worthless. "Its perfect, it'll go great with the wine... Did you get your album?" "Yeah, it wasn't as expensive as it could have been either. I guess the resurgence of records is driving the prices back down."

"Sweet, well how shall we do this? Eat then listen, listen then eat? Together?" Alex was doing all the talking while Bobby was just relatching the door and going into the kitchen to stir the pots on the stove. She followed behind him and put the bottle on the table. She was about to ask for a corkscrew and glasses when from either side behind her, they appeared over her shoulder. Glasses to one side; corkscrew to the other. "Let's eat and listen together. More comfortable that way. We have a lot of music to cover and might as well start it off with a bang."

He drained the noodles and piled them into bowls; she poured wine and obligingly said "when" when he asked her how much sauce. They carried their respective offerings for dinner over to the couch and put the food on the coffee table. "Could you go grab some napkins and forks? Drawer next to the sink, I am going to set the music up." "Sure thing, Bobby." She wondered if he could go the whole night without referring to her, in order to avoid calling her 'Eames' off duty. She bet he could. He was just that good.

She ducked around into the kitchen and quickly grabbed her legal pad out of her bag. She uncapped the pen and while grabbing forks and pulling paper towels off a roll she sloppily scribbled under her current question: _Alone lifestyle is _comfortable_, full of_ reading, music, dim light_, worn and comfortable _couches. "I'll add more later." she was mostly in the middle of another thought when she heard Goren's voice from the other room "Music's ready, I know you're taking notes... I WILL figure out what's on that paper. Game's up."

She walked into the other room again as the strains of the first song started on the record player. She looked right into his eyes with the two forks in one hand grasped like a Hitchcock killing device and narrowed her eyes with a small smirk on her face. Goren wrinkled his nose in that annoying way he had when he just knew he was right, and he was restraining himself from gloating.

"DAMN you!" Neil Young's voice drifted warm out of the speakers and she threw a fork at him. He caught the fork, held it in for one more moment and finally burst into uncontrollable laughter.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: This is my first CI fic. I am starting a new set of stories linking my favourite shows to my profession, Theatre. I figure that with all the moving around the people in my favourite shows do, they are bound to encounter Theatre one or twice. _PLEASE R&R_ so I can know if this is working or not. THANKS FOR ALL MY REVIEWS SO FAR!!! I am glad you are all enjoying this story. Its nice to see what the end of each chapter leaves you thinking, too. : )  
****_Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, or these Dramatic Theories, or the music... just the situation in which they collide.  
_  
**_I hope you can understand how I am doing this but if not... Bold- questions. Italics- Things Eames is thinking but not writing down about the questions. Underlined- The words she would write on the page.

* * *

_

The most part of an hour later, Eames had heard the entire Neil Young album, and from Goren the entire history of the last track "America The Beautiful." They'd mostly paid attention, forgetting themselves once to discuss politics and the president, and another time losing attention to go refill on spaghetti and wine. But over all Goren expressed his happiness at having had someone to listen to the album with, so Alex was fairly certain that she would have no problem sliding in her ABBA in a moment.

"So, my turn now Bobby?" She was still trying to get him to call her 'Alex' too. So far the evening had yielded lots of 'Um's and 'Hey's before all of the 'Could/Would/Did/Have You's that accompanied the, well, company. "Well, um, not exactly." "Not WHAT?! You promised, Mister." As she was protesting, Goren was moving to stand in front of the console that housed the stereo. "Oh, Mister is it? Well then, MADAM, we're not listening to your album until you tell me all about this Psych Paper and the little game you're running on me." He stood with his back against the cabinet and his arms folded resolutely. "Seriously." But his smile didn't look as threatening as his tone suggested.

"First of all, let's get this straight, I CAN lie to you. Cause its not a Psych Paper at all. Its a Theatre paper. Drama, Bobby. And it's not an evaluation either. Its a paper to help with building a character, to help you ACT like someone else. I was just answering questions, playing a game and I don't appreciate your insinuating yourself into my fun. So there."

They were now facing each other across Goren's coffee table, matching stances and glares. Neither of the partners were actually angry. But this was as close to a game as they got and Alex wondered in her head how far Bobby was really willing to carry the game. "Tell me what it says about me and we'll listen to your album but not a second before. So THERE."

**"Was the character smart in school/work?"** _Too smart for his own damn good. Yes, __very intelligent, smart-alec__ perhaps even. Either __teacher's pet __or __teacher's worst nightmare__. Really __helpful in work__ so long as people know how to let him work. __Hyper-intelligent._

Eames wished the reel in her head that auto-answered the questions would stop right now so she could think but she'd made the mistake of reading them over and over again, and they were in her brain for good. She wondered if Goren could tell that she was answering another question in her head when involuntarily her top lip curled just a hint. She tried to stop it but it was far, far too late. "You're doing it right now!!" He dropped his hands from his chest to flail them in mock surprise. He'd already guessed she would continue. Probably knew it was unconscious by now.

She still didn't speak. So he finally broke the silence and the staring contest with his first brag of the evening. "Obviously you need the little sheet of paper to make a character. You can't just do it off the cuff. I can of course, but I'm a horse of a different color as we are both well aware." She took this as a sign that there would be a demonstration, so she turned around and plopped back on the couch. She was not going to speak until asked a question; she would let him ride this out.

All of a sudden he changed. He relaxed his shoulders a little into a comfortably upright posture but not his usual tensed-shoulder stance. He threw his right leg out to the side and shifted his weight so that most of it was on his left foot. Alex watched all of this, wondering what the transformation was leading up to. Then she watched as he braced his hands on his hips and pursed his lips into an ironic smirk. It was all starting to look like something she knew when he narrowed his eyes and said with all the deadpan he could muster-

"Come on Bobby, just put the damn album in already or you can spend the rest of the evening imagining how you'll con suspects into signing the arm cast I'll put you in." She jumped up off of the couch and stood apart from him, then casting a glance at the coffee table for sturdiness, hopped on top of it so she towered above him. She cocked her head to the left and bent down toward him a little and said, "Really, Eames, you shouldn't threaten people. We both know you wouldn't last two seconds in my interrogation room if someone you knew ended up dead. I know all your tells." She wagged her finger a little in a noncommittal way.

The sight to anyone who walked in the room would have been hilarious. The tall man with the feminine countenance and the smaller woman standing over him, boosted by a piece of furniture and trying to radiate testosterone. He flipped his imaginary hair over his shoulder and eked a little more whine into the voice "Bob-by! Don't try so hard, its not a good look on you." "Is it your time of the month or something?" she replied in her best know-it-all voice.

Goren straightened up at this one and shouted out "HA! I would never say something like that to you, or to anyone really for that matter. You lose!" He huffed happily for a split second until she inched closer to him on the coffee table. "I know you wouldn't, that's why I said it. I don't lose, I get smarter every day." She set a hand on his shoulder and jumped down beside him, brushing past him before he could say anything and grabbing her album from the shelf. She knew he wouldn't want to hurt his records, or the player, or her, so she just listened to his "no fair" grumblings while she set the record up to play.

She set the needle down and in moments the slightly Swedish intonation was singing "Everybody screamed when I kissed the teacher..." and she happily wiggled her head to the beat. Then she turned back to her sulking partner and gave him a big grin. "I'm still the better actor." He said. "I don't doubt you, but I will always play the game better than you." "Cause you cheat" he replied. "You can't cheat when there's no rules Bobby." She sat down next to him.

"I hate disco. But I'll listen for you." He said and looked to see if the bottle of wine held more than one more glass each. It didn't. "I know, that's why if there were a question about your politeness, I would have said 'very very'." He poured the remaining wine between the two glasses and handed hers to her. "There's not one? What's on that paper anyway? Go get it." "No, still my secret."

"Then I'll go get it." He stood up and made slowly for the other room, and her gym bag. "How do you know its in there? It was in my pocket last time." He was past her now, still moving slowly. "Gym pants have no pockets. Yours don't anyway." "Oh! No!" She realized he was right and tried to grab at his passing elbow. He was speeding up. "You wouldn't go through my bag Bobby! You need a warrant!" "Not if there's probable cause!" he shot back over his shoulder, still just barely walking. She jumped off the couch to chase him down, "You come back here right this instant!"


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: This is my first CI fic. I am starting a new set of stories linking my favourite shows to my profession, Theatre. I figure that with all the moving around the people in my favourite shows do, they are bound to encounter Theatre one or twice. _PLEASE R&R_ so I can know if this is working or not. SORRY THIS CHAPTER TOOK SO LONG TO COME INTO BEING!! I couldn't get the flow I wanted, it took forever to be happy with. I hope it works for you all.  
**_**Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, or these Dramatic Theories, or the music... just the situation in which they collide.

* * *

**_Short of jumping on his back, which would never have actually crossed her mind, all Alex could think to do was duck under Goren's elbow and throw herself completely across the table, bag and all. It was ridiculous but she was fairly certain he wouldn't touch her. The paper was safe. He looked at her, splayed insanely across his table, protecting her gym bag fiercely and she glared back. "Please let me keep my game Bobby. I'll tell you about it all, but let me do it."

He backed off just a little, and she relaxed off the table. She pulled the paper out of a pocket inside the bag and held it protectively against her stomach. "I'm missing my album, excuse me." She smiled at him just a tiny little bit. She was used to having to give him clues that no matter what she said or did, she would never truly be angry with him. He'd never given her a reason. She hoped he never would. He smiled back and ushered her back to the couch. He touched her shoulder when she sat down, the first time he had touched her all night. Up until now she'd initiated all contact. Alex wondered if this was when he was finally going to have to address her.

"I'm sorry. I was being-" "Nosy?" "Um, overly-inquisitive. I'd say 'I have a habit of that' but I think you would hit me." "Right-o. Now, you wanna know what's on the paper?" He looked deeply into her eyes to make sure she was serious. She had strangely gotten used to this sort of analysis. She wasn't even sure she could do without someone reading her thoughts at least once a day. Bobby was checking to make sure she wasn't giving up the information grudgingly.

"Its ok. Stop the Vulcan mind-meld. I'll tell you gladly, really. Its not like I am ever, EVER Bobby, going to tell you what I wrote down. Just the questions. Ok?" She was glad she'd written the answers on other sheets of paper. Leave it to her to have both the most inquisitive, and most polite, partner in the world. He would let her give up as much as she wanted, and drop it as long as she made it clear her notes were benign. They were, maybe a little affectionate but he must know she thought about him that way. They were listening to disco together. "For God's sake!" She said out loud and finally pried the paper away from her stomach. She unfolded it and started to read.

"What is the character's full name? Age? Physical appearance? Those were easy enough. Except, what's your middle name?" "None of your business, Ms. Holmes, if you didn't already know." "Ok fine then. What is the character's alone lifestyle? That was the one I answered when I got here. I wasn't sure til then. What genre of music does the character enjoy?" Goren shifted on the couch, pulling the cushion from behind his back and hugging it to his chest.

"Is that why we're here? Why I am listening to ABBA?" "Let's just say that question sparked the idea. Its not WHY, cause you answered the question when I asked. It just made me want to listen to music with you. Excuse me." Alex stood up and walked over to the stereo cabinet where the first side of her album had run its course. Instead of flipping it over, she started it over from the beginning. This elicited a groan from Goren and as she sat back down she said, "Don't worry. We won't listen to the whole side again. Or the entire album for that matter. I like other stuff too, music you wouldn't object to as much. We'll listen to something else another time. I just want to test a theory right now." "Fine, I trust you." He sighed into the cushion. "More questions. I want to hear."

"I spared us both the burden of- Has the character witnessed a murder. And I didn't know about pets, so I skipped that one." "I have a betta fish, next to my bed." "Good to know. I'll buy you a fishbowl plant for whenever your Birthday is. Couldn't answer that question." She stretched her feet out in front of her and put one foot on top of his. It wasn't too much out of affection, more out of a playful sense of possessing him, forcing the answer out by breaking some toes. He moved his foot out from under hers and kicked it lightly before replying "Not telling, you can always just assume it's on a weekend sometime during the month." "Damn. Fair enough I guess. Ooh, my experiment. What makes the character laugh?"

At this moment the song on the album was changing. Alex stood up and tucked the paper into the waistband of her pants, where Bobby wouldn't go after it while she was up. She saw the look of mildly horror-stricken amusement when the opening notes to Dancing Queen began to fill the room. Eames, as he saw plainly, was doing a half-hearted Hustle and, as he heard very plainly, singing purposefully off-key. "You can dance, you can shine... Bobby! Having the time of your life!! Ooh ooh..." She trailed off as she wiggled around in a circle, then tossed her hair in a manner similar to the one Bobby demonstrated earlier. "Gonna dance with me, hm?" She wiggled again, not provocatively, just with an inviting dorkness that said she expected her work partner to temporarily become her dance partner.

"I don't know how to Hustle." He settled himself more firmly into the cushions of the couch. "No need to be formal, I just don't feel like sitting down any more. Song's half over anyway, up, you!" Bobby stood from the couch, still clutching the cushion. He picked up the other cushion from its home near where Alex was sitting, and carried them both around the coffee table to where she was doing her best Saturday Night Fever impression. "Can you dig it Bobby? I know that you can!" She laughed, because it was this kind of stuff that she never did even for herself, that made her happy.

Happy, because that was a word Alex Eames didn't use very often. She was happy when she was with her nephew, he represented an entire other part of herself that she never knew existed. She wasn't happy with him; she was joyful with him. She was content with most of her life, if not a little worn out by her job, a little frustrated at her lack of a love life. But the only time she was happy was on the occasion that she cut loose and did something she would have done when she was fifteen, or twelve, or ten. Only when she returned to those times, before she gave much thought to being anything other than happy. And right now was one of those happy moments. She just hoped her playmate would play along.

"Dance! Dance... come on." she rolled her hands in the air and sadly realized he might not do it. The song was coming to an end again. But she smiled widely at him and made sure her eyes said the loudest "Please" they could. Body language was nearly more important with Bobby than whatever you could say out loud. That was part of his character. It must have worked because he sidled up to her, smacked the cushions against her stomach so she had to grab at them to keep steady, and while her mind was JUST off of the situation, he turned on his heel and burst into the Night Fever Line Hustle Alex knew from her disco movies binges.

"How do you KNOW that damn it, you said you didn't?!?!" She threw the cushions to the couch and came up next to him and tried to get in step. "I know everything, remember? Can I have that piece of paper? You're done with it I think." "I might be Bobby, I might be scared to learn the rest of these things about you." He laughed, lightly shoved her with his shoulder to throw her out of step, and laughed again. "I DO make you laugh, I knew it!" "You make me more than laugh, you make me happy. Otherwise, would I be doing this with you?" "Probably not. Hey, can I just photocopy this for you at work? I really would like to keep the original as a trophy of sorts. I pulled it over on you for a while Bob."

"Ok deal." The music wound down and he struck a ridiculous disco pose. She joined him in another ridiculous pose and then they collapsed on the couch and he rather abruptly changed the subject to a "better" album they might listen to next time.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: This is my first CI fic. I am starting a new set of stories linking my favourite shows to my profession, Theatre. I figure that with all the moving around the people in my favourite shows do, they are bound to encounter Theatre one or twice. _PLEASE R&R_ LAST CHAPTER!!!! I had such a good time writing this, I hope everyone enjoyed reading. I am interested in hearing all your comments.  
**_**Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, or these Dramatic Theories... just the situation in which they collide.  
**I hope you can see the question here, but just in case, I put the question from the character sheet in Italics.**

* * *

**_

"You maybe want to take an acting class sometime, Bobby? Together maybe? It occurred to me the other night that we don't do anything, either of us. I mean we don't have to do that maybe. We could do something else. Your photocopy, here." They were back in work, back to reality however bleak it might be. Things were alright this morning as Eames plopped down at her desk and stashed the original copy of the now infamous paper. Goren looked briefly at his copy to make sure it was in fact what she said it was, then tucked it into his desk drawer until later.

"No, no acting, I've taken an acting class before. Easier to learn from human nature. We could um... watch a movie once a month?" He was willing to see what she wanted, but he made it plain through his face. "How about twice a month Bobby, once for your movie, once for mine?" She was watching him equally expectantly. A friendly negotiation had begun.

"Can we switch between your place and mine then? Keep everything exciting?" He upped the ante; as he knew she wasn't keen on having people all the way out to her place. She didn't like to have them make the trip. But since he was offering, she couldn't feel like she was putting too much on him.

"Fine, and we can switch up on favorite takeout. Match the movie to the house, and the takeout to the person who didn't get to pick the movie. My house, my movie, your food and vice versa. Seem fair?" She twisted in her desk chair. He looked at her, tapping his fingertips together in a pyramid as if he were actually weighing the attributes of her offer. "I can wait all day, Mister. Consider all you like."

"Do you really like to spend time with me, Eames? I mean, as a friend? You don't just do it as some exercise to pry into my life? Figure out what makes me tick to relieve some pressure from yourself at guessing? I know I make it difficult, but I have to know you don't feel obligated." She wasn't expecting this. Her eyes got a little glassy with tears that she couldn't control and she wished he hadn't done this in the squad room where everyone might see if she couldn't keep it in. She swallowed hard three or four times and ran the knuckles of her thumbs over her eyes.

"Bobby? That was mean, you shouldn't've asked me that. It's not fair and you know it." She lowered her voice when she realized she didn't want everyone else to pick up on what she was saying to him. "You are my friend. Probably my best friend, I love you like my best friend anyway. I would never pry into your life beyond what I expect you to tell me out of common courtesy because we're partners. Things that might effect me. Everything else is yours to keep and give to me as you please, if you please. Isn't that enough? I will have to be enough."

"I'm sorry. I'm really, very sorry. I had no idea you would take it that way. I had no idea you would say that. It um- surprises me actually. I mean because, I guess you are my best friend right now too. No one else cares as much as you do. I've really screwed this up, haven't I?" He was shuffling in his seat and she knew that he was just as sorry as she had been shocked. She had to reassure him.

"Its just part of your character. You didn't screw up, you just used that giant personality and equally giant heart and shot out some emotions a little further than I was ready to catch them. Come on," she stood now, gesturing toward the hall and bank of elevators "let's go get some fresh air and a cup of coffee and plan Movie Night Number One for tonight. I could use it now." He followed her obediently, the look of relief on his face apparent.

"Just part of my character, hm? How about an Indiana Jones movie and you can get some Greek food at my place then? Action movies are part of my character as well." They were at the elevators now. "Harrison Ford is kinda yummy, so are stuffed grape leaves. I guess it could work." She looked up at Goren to see his reaction to her not-often-seen-at-work femininity. "Surely he isn't better-looking than I am, Eames."

"Of course not, of course not." The elevator opened and she moved to step inside. "_Does the character have a high opinion of himself?_ Do I even have to ask?" As she started to laugh at her own quip she felt his hand lightly touch her back to make sure she made it safely into the elevator. She could even feel his smile as he joined her in a small laugh and quipped right back "Oh, but you're a character too."

* * *

**Next story in the Theatre Canon: NCIS.**


End file.
